Chapter Twenty-Seven
Doc had successfully commandeered the UW team tent for the morning, and when I arrived, she already had her cache of beauty supplies spread out on the table along with a lit lilac-scented candle.
“Don’t give me that look,” she said. “I carried all this to Everest Base Camp with my own two legs.”
I’d only ever known Doc here at Base Camp, on those Alps trips with Dad, and that one time she’d joined us in Railay Beach. Seeing her with all these products made me wonder what kind of primping she did when she was at home in Seattle. I guess I’d assumed that, being a surgeon, she didn’t fuss with all that stuff, but perhaps she wore makeup and dyed her hair and spent an hour each morning in front of the mirror like Amy had.
“Don’t you feel bad about not inviting Claudia?” I asked.
“Not at all. She’s a great woman, but we won’t see her again after this season. You and I, we go way back.”
We took our camp boots and socks off and washed our feet with medical wet wipes before coating them with a travel-sized bottle of nail conditioner and filing the tops of our toenails.
“Emily, what are you doing?”
“What?”
“You’re going to shred your nails doing that.”
I watched her for a minute, then mimicked how she was working the file. Doc laughed and shook her head.
She had brought foam toe-spreaders, and we put these on before applying two coats of a ridiculously bright red-orange called My Chihuahua Bites. Just as we were switching to our hands, my phone chimed with a #YCCM Circ.
I was dying to see it but resisted so as not to be rude.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Doc asked.
I glanced down, quickly recognizing the location as the start of the Kala Pattar trail. There were clients in the background, which meant Luke must have gotten suckered into leading a hike today. At first, I was confused because this Circ wasn’t a high point, real or contrived. But then, I realized it was a job-related #DawgsOnEverest post in which he’d snuck #YCCM into the hashtag list. I couldn’t help smiling.
“Oh, a guy! You didn’t tell me there’s a guy. You’re just like Greg. Unless you ask point-blank, you’ll never get an answer. So, where did you meet him? Let me guess, a super sexy Aussie climber from your last trip to Thailand?”
My cheeks heated. I shook my head.
“Oh, wait a minute. This is all making sense.”
Shit. What if she suspected Luke? We’d both be fired.
“What’s making sense?” I said to stall while I tried to think of a diversion.
“Luke.”
“No.”
She gave me a look. “I was noticing how well you two were getting along as you cut those eggplants the other day.”
“No! It’s nothing. We’re just—”
“This is adorable.” She put down her nail file. “So adorable. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. You guys are perfect. He used to ask about you every time he came over to my house for dinner.”
She hopped out of her chair and was soon digging through the first aid box in the corner of the tent. “This calls for extra primping. We’ll do your hair, too. How long has it been since you got it cut?” She found a pair of surgical scissors and raised them victoriously in the air.
“A long time,” I said, self-consciously stroking my hair. At least I’d showered yesterday, otherwise she’d probably recommend I shave it all off.
“It’s not your fault. Greg treats you like a guy. But I’m serious about the trim. You could use it. Not that you need to do something other than be yourself for a guy. There’s a happy medium. Let’s find that.”
“All right, Mom.”
“I’m not old enough to be your mom.”
“You could be, if you were a teen mom.”
“Emily, I was one hundred percent focused on grades in high school. I didn’t sleep with anyone until…well…your dad. I was never going to be a teen mom.”
I almost dropped the bottle of top coat. “Did you just say you and Dad—”
“You know this.”
“No, I don’t know this.”
“Does that man tell you anything? No, actually, I’m not surprised. The president should give you two the nuclear release codes. You’re harder to crack than a safe.”
I didn’t know what to ask first. It made perfect sense, but how could I have never picked up on it, even if Dad hadn’t said anything?
“He always said you were his friend,” I offered. Actually, he’d always said that she was our friend.
“That Greg!”
“I can’t believe Dad has a girlfriend.”
“Had. It’s been over for a while now.” She put my hands on the table and brushed the polish across my fingernails.
My head was still playing catch-up. When had it started? When had it stopped? Those trips to the Alps, where we’d stayed in an actual hotel? She had probably been paying for everything! This was horrifying. My dad was such a kind spirit—how had he let her do that?
“Don’t feel bad for me, I’m the one who broke it off,” she said, misjudging my expression.
“When did it stop?”
“It was the winter before the icefall avalanche.”
I frowned. That’s when the Alps trips had stopped, and Doc hadn’t come to Railay that year as planned.
“The long distance was too much, and there was never going to be an end to it,” she said.
No wonder Dad was adamant about me exploring careers other than guiding. He’d started Winslowe Expeditions as a way to support me, and in doing that, it had cost him a relationship with a beautiful, accomplished woman whom we both adored. I covered my face with my hands.
“Oh, no, no, you’re going to mess up your nail polish,” she said, pulling my hands back.
“So, basically, you guys broke up because of me,” I said.
“Partly.”
“You’re actually admitting that?”
“You’re the one who said it.”
“Yeah, but I thought you’re never supposed to say that kind of thing to the kid.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love how dedicated he’s been to you since you came to live with him, but the cost of living in the U.S. is so high, and Greg wasn’t going to explore moving back until he no longer needed to support you. Really, it’s my fault. I was the one with the flexibility, but I wasn’t going to leave my practice in Seattle for a year-round volunteer medical job somewhere here in the Himalayas.”
I frowned.
“You know, it’s all okay,” she said. “Greg and I are friends now.”
Yeah. A friend who borrowed money for his daughter’s plane ticket.
“How did we end up talking about this?” she asked. “This is all old news. And you have hot, new news. You couldn’t have picked a better guy than Luke. He is the best.”
She motioned for me to move to one of the chairs closer to the light for my haircut. “I don’t know what I’m doing, so I’m just going to trim straight across the back above your split ends, okay?”
I nodded.
“I think it’s safe to assume Greg has no clue about this new romance of yours?”
“Romance?” I scrunched my nose. That word was so medieval.
“We have only a few more weeks here—what’s going to happen then? I’d be pissed if you broke his heart. Or if he broke yours.”
“We haven’t talked about that yet. Seriously, it just happened.”
Behind me, Doc snipped away with the scissors. I hoped she was at least a little better at trimming hair than she was at making eggplant parmesan.
“So, you and Luke would have had the perfect scenario if you hadn’t gone nutso and rejected Townsend College. Now I’m sad I helped you with your résumé for that CentralPoint thing.”
“But CentralPoint would be such an amazing opportunity, and you said it: he could break my heart just as easily as the other way around.”
“You know, Luke isn’t in a position to leave Washington for a while. He has two years left of college and then medical school after that.”
“Doc, it’s only been a week since we first kissed.”
She brushed through my trimmed hair. “You can stay with me, you know. My place is small, but you’re welcome as long as you want.”
“And continue the Winslowe family charity case?”
She grabbed a chunk of my hair. “I’ll cut this right off,” she threatened.
“Okay, okay! I’ll think about it.”
“You’re getting sassy this year, MiniBoss. You better think about it, for real. It would be fun. I work long hours during the week, but I have most weekends off. We could do nails in a real spa, with some of my girlfriends. We could climb Rainier. You’d be like my live-in mountain guide.”
She handed me a tiny mirror so I could look at my hair.
“Looks great, thanks,” I said.
I held the mirror for her so she could trim her bangs.
“Luke aside, you really shouldn’t give up on college just yet,” she said. “I know Greg’s talked to you about it being okay to change majors. Maybe just come home to Washington for a while and explore some options.”
“Washington’s not my home.”
“Well, then, where is?”
“Here, probably.”
She set the scissors down and stared at me. “Here, as in Everest Base Camp?”
“Yeah. Why not? I’ve spent more time here than any single place.”
“This is no one’s home, not even the Sherpas,” she said as she finished her bangs. “This is a temporary village on the shoulder of a wrathful deity.”
We didn’t finish the discussion because Cook-Phurba walked in with a plate of sandwiches, which Doc must have arranged ahead of time with Randall.
“Much appreciated, Phurba,” she said.
After we finished eating, Doc mixed up a bright yellow face mask from some mystery ingredients and a bowl of salt from the kitchen. I declined when she passed the bowl to me.
When she was all done applying it, she asked me to drop off the sandwich plates over in the scullery.
“I’m leaving this on until after my siesta, and I would prefer if the men didn’t get a look at this.”
“No problem.”
We loaded the beauty supplies into her backpack. “Well, this has been a highly successful girls’ day,” she said. “We both have fresh hair and perfect nails, were able to skip the tiresome politics talk at lunch, and uncovered two secret relationships.”
I hugged her cautiously, not wanting any of that mask to end up on my jacket, even though, technically, it would blend in perfectly.
“I gave you a hard time about calling me mom, but you are like a daughter to me. I think you know that. But how about we just call it ‘little sister?’”
“The math doesn’t work out on that, either, you know.”
“It could.”
I gave her a smile, but I was still unsettled from all that we’d talked about.
We have only a few more weeks here—what’s going to happen then?
I had no idea. About Luke, what I’d be doing for work, or where I’d be going when the season was over.
Instead of returning to my tent for a nap, I went to the command center to submit my CentralPoint materials and continue looking for a job.
The command center was bustling this afternoon with the twins on two of the laptops, Norbu and a few of the Sherpas checking weather, and April and Theo over in the corner fixing something on the drone.
I talked with everyone for a while, then logged in on a laptop on the backside of the table so no one would see what I was doing. After I’d finished submitting all the materials to Esplanade’s CentralPoint portal, I filled out the catchall application for U.S. national parks summer jobs, clicking the toggle buttons next to waitress, hostess, food service worker, hotel clerk, rental clerk, and housekeeper jobs in any location near mountains. Jackson Hole, Glacier, Denali, Yosemite, Estes Park, and Sawtooth National Parks.
Next, I started checking for ski resorts that were open in the summer and had on-site staff lodging. This was a tedious process, and before long I was sidetracked, browsing recent trip reports for the peaks in Patagonia.
But even as I daydreamed about Cerro Torre, Fitz Roy, and all the others, I was still being pulled by the image of a very different place: my tiny white bungalow.
Now that Doc knew about Luke and me, I was extra self-conscious about hanging out with him in the big top, so I kept to the A-Team during dinner. After dinner, the clients sucked me into a three-hour A-Team Trivial Pursuit tournament. Phil, Phurba, and I were a team—and we won. Which was a big surprise, considering our educational levels in comparison to everyone else. Afterward, the men were still jazzed up on too much after-dinner soda, milling about outside, so I went to my tent instead of attempting to sneak over to Luke’s.
Doc’s reminder today about the limited time Luke and I had left at Base Camp together was weighing on me. But it shouldn’t be. It was too soon to be overanalyzing Luke’s intentions and making plans for a joint future. Going on Eighteen articles were forever warning about putting the cart before the horse like this. I shouldn’t let the uncertainty of my future and what would happen with Luke and me after the summit bid cloud the joy of finally being together with him.
It was late by the time it finally got quiet outside, but I was dying for the burn of Luke’s kiss. Since I wasn’t sure if he was still awake, I brightened my tent with my headlamp and then lay down on my sleeping bag to beckon him using a Circ of my decorated tent ceiling. Just before I finished, I remembered what he said about me never putting myself in Circs, so I dipped the screen across my face before it hit three hundred and sixty degrees and snapped off. I added #YCCM to the Circ and hit send.
I awoke to the muffled, high-pitched beeps of my watch alarm beneath my pillow. I realized Luke had not responded to my Circ last night, but that was understandable. To save battery, all of us generally turn off our phones at night. I sat up and dressed quickly, excited to get outside and meet him for our ski day. Even more exciting than skiing, it was the first time we’d be alone together out of the prying eyes of the Base Camp gossipmongers since crossing the friends line, and we had the entire, glorious day ahead of us.